Harlequin?
by Nikiname
Summary: My first fic. A passing idea about what her life was like BEFORE she went nuts...
1. Right now

Right now, she really didn't need this. She had enough on her plate as it was. Fresh out of graduate school, just transferred, and on her first day at work in the city, she didn't need to have a huge caseload dumped on her at the start. But this was life. And so now she had three new patients to meet. Three!! When she just started working here.  
  
She hadn't even finished moving into her apartment. 'Just take it day by day,' she told herself, 'You know you can do this.'  
  
She managed to make it through school, became a doctor, a psychologist, like she always wanted. It was just the next step. She'd made it. Now she could get on with helping people.  
  
All the other students had made fun of her when she told where she wanted to work once she got her degree. Always talking about Arkham's "revolving- door" policy. Well, maybe if the people treating the inmate were a little bit better, they wouldn't be so damn desperate to get out.  
  
Anyway, she felt like she was on a mission. She was going to help these poor, overlooked unfortunates in Gotham society. The politicians didn't care. So long as they were locked up for the time being, anyway, Batman always manages to catch them when they get out. The rich socialites didn't mind either. They too had Batman to watch their backs and tuck them in safely at night. So it was up to her to maybe make a difference.  
  
Right. Her first patient of the day. Man, she really didn't need this. To be starting off with one of the most notorious "villains" of Gotham? She wasn't a superhero. And it wasn't like he hadn't had so many therapists poking at him before. She'd seen the other doctors around here. After a while they all lost hope and stopped caring about their patients. Well, it would take a lot for her to win her patients' trust, but she'd have to try if they were ever going to have a chance of being accepted citizens again.  
  
Gritting her teeth, just a little, she walked into her first session. 'That glass partition really does nothing for my confidence,' she thought. First patient of the job, one Jake Napier, aka the Joker.  
  
"Hello, my name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel." 


	2. First day

A/N: Just a quick sidenote, I didn't really get all my disclaimers and whatnot in the first chapter, so here goes. I don't own any of this, all the characters and entire Batman Universe were created by a far wiser person than myself, and I am merely indulging in a little speculation. For the most part I wanted to try out giving Harley some backbone. It seemed interesting. Let me know what you think. I welcome any reviews (it means someone out there is reading) but hopefully you'll be gentle as this is the first thing I've ever posted. This note is turning out quite long, so I'll stop here and get on with the story. Oh! I know I'm using the pronoun 'she' a lot, but it doesn't feel quite right to constantly refer to her as Harleen.  
  
"Well, how do you? They call me the Joker," he said.  
  
"I'd prefer to use your real name, your. . . given name. Jack Napier."  
  
"Oh, don't you think that's a bit formal for a place like this? I hardly think anyone will mind. I certainly don't. Besides, plenty of other patients around here go by different names than their 'given names' as you so cutely put it."  
  
"I'd prefer to be a little more formal, Jack."  
  
"Hmmm, well, I suppose that's up to you. But what about your name? Ech, who names their child Harleen. . . Did you ever have any nicknames, maybe?"  
  
"No, not really."  
  
"Well, I think Harley is much better. And Quinzel, too long! Quinn!! Yes, there's a nice normal sounding name, how 'bout that?"  
  
"Harley Quinn. Like a harlequin, or clown. Of course. You are the Joker. . ."  
  
"Hmmm, once again they stick me with a doctor that has no sense of humor. I really am getting tired of this place."  
  
The rest of the session wasn't any more productive than the beginning of it. She reassured herself that things would get better with time. Gaining their trust, that first important step. Maybe she should let him call her Harley. . . It wasn't such a bad change. Harleen was a fairly stuffy name.  
  
What was she thinking?! There was nothing wrong with her name. She was a little shocked. How could she let her patient in like that? And so quickly? Not to mention how dangerous he was.  
  
-  
  
Dropping her keys onto a small desk in her cramped apartment, Dr. Quinzel thought only of taking a nice long shower, and then maybe tackling some of the boxes that still needed unpacking. She slowly massaged her neck and took off her glasses.  
  
"You know, I was planning on leaving here today, but I decided I should meet the new help first. See if you won't be the doc to cure me."  
  
She remembered his comments. The playful smile as he gave his little taunts. At least she hadn't had to meet with all of her new patients on her first day. Still, it seemed so ridiculous to have her seeing patients already.  
  
As she stepped into the shower she thought about how silly Jack had looked in those Arkham inmate clothes. The green hair and pale face probably didn't look good next to anything, but the asylum garb was too plain for such an odd person.  
  
"Why do I keep thinking about him?" she asked herself aloud. "I have other patients to concentrate on, and about a million other concerns. Like dinner, I'm starved."  
  
-  
  
"So what do you think of that new doctor, huh Joker?"  
  
"She's a cute little thing, isn't she, Harv? And I do like the name."  
  
Looking up from his all but finished crossword puzzle Edward Nygma decided to join the conversation. "Hmmm, Harleen Quinzel. . . Yes, you would like that name, wouldn't you, Jack?"  
  
"Who asked you, Eddie? Anyway, I doubt she'll last long."  
  
"What, is she the hopeless, idealistic type?" Two-Face asked.  
  
"I wouldn't really know. I wasn't paying attention. I spent most of the entire time imagining how she'd look in red leather."  
  
"You always were quite the chauvinist. . ."  
  
"I thought I told you to butt out, Eddie!"  
  
"Actually, you merely implied that I wasn't involved in your conversation. Back to my point, I hardly think you'll have a chance to fulfill that little fantasy of yours. It's not as if you've had much luck with women in the past, anyway. When was the last time you had a girlfriend?"  
  
"That's hardly important. Besides, I've been spending my time on trying to kill that dratted Batman, I don't have time for girls," the Joker replied.  
  
"Sure, that's it Joker. But if you're spending all your time on the Bat, how come he's not dead yet?" Two Face teased.  
  
"Oh shut up. I don't remember you killing him either. And it's not like your love life is all that great either. Your girlfriend, I mean fiancé, only went out with you so she could kill you. For endangering some tiny little rose, no less. That Ivy really belongs in here, you know."  
  
"She was a little over the top."  
  
"Sexy as hell, though. I wouldn't mind seeing her in leather either," Joker said.  
  
"Hey!!" Two Face objected.  
  
"What? You're not still engaged, and she hates your guts. So what if I think she has a nice body?"  
  
"So? She's my ex. You can't talk about her like that in front of me!"  
  
"Harvey, you hate her guts."  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
"Speaking of the lovely Dr. Isley, I overheard that she's one of Dr. Quinzel's patients as well," the Riddler interjected.  
  
"No kidding? Now that would be something to see. I hear Ivy doesn't get along with girls too well," Joker said.  
  
"She doesn't get along with anybody too well," Two Face stated.  
  
- 


	3. Flash Forward

"You can't keep letting him do this to you," Poison Ivy lectured. "I mean look at you, you're barely breathing!"  
  
"Don't be so dramatic, Red. I'm fine," the young blonde insisted.  
  
Harley had come to Ivy's apartment, battered and bruised, as usual, and in need of patching up. She had been abused once again by her boyfriend, the Joker.  
  
"I swear, one of these days he IS going to kill you, and I won't be surprised. How can you stay with him?"  
  
"I love him," Harley said.  
  
"Yeah, well you could love plenty of other people that could treat you better. I don't see why he's the perfect guy for you. Sure, he's nice for a little while, but then he gets mad and hurts you all over again. And then you end up here, listening to me tell you how bad he is for you."  
  
"But he can be so good some of the time!" Harley persisted.  
  
"I just don't understand what you saw in him in the first place," Ivy replied.  
  
Poison Ivy, plant scientist turned criminal, was worried about her friend. The way Joker kept abusing her. Joker really could end up killing her and wouldn't even know. Ivy knew how he hit her and left her there. Then poor Harley would finally peel herself off the wall then show up on her doorstep, having been beaten senseless, only to come crawling back to him once she could actually move again. Just to get beat up again!  
  
A horrible thought entered her mind. What if Harley ever got pregnant? Who knows. She could've been pregnant and miscarried without ever knowing. Between fighting with Batman, Struggling against the Arkham guards, getting injected with sedatives, and taking beatings from Joker, it seemed entirely plausible that Harley could've lost a baby. But this was just a hypothetical. Still, the whole idea made her uneasy.  
  
The former Dr. Pamela Isley looked over at her now-sleeping friend. 'Must've drifted off during the few seconds I stopped talking,' she mused. Ivy moved a few blonde hairs away from the bandages on Harley's face. 'Poor thing, she deserves better.'  
  
And with that, Ivy decided that she, too, should get some sleep. 


	4. The doctors are in

Well, she was back. Ready to face another day at Arkham Asylum. Harleen Quinzel walked into the staff meeting looking more confident than she felt. That huge patient caseload was still weighing on her shoulders.  
  
"First order of business," her new boss, Kenzy, said, "we lost a patient last night. Suicide. Quinzel, he was one of yours. Looks like you're down to two now."  
  
Harleen was too shocked to react. She felt responsible. Hadn't she been constantly complaining about how it was too much work for her? And now one of her patients was dead before she'd even had the time to look at their file. She didn't even know their name.  
  
-  
  
Sigh. Another day, another doctor. Pamela Isley waited in her cell, thinking about the new doctor she'd meet today. She was so sick of doctors. There were all blithering idiots that did nothing but stroke their male egos. And none of them understood her. 'Especially that last one,' she thought to herself, 'always bringing in vases of some bright cheery flower during sessions. The nerve of that man!! Murdering poor innocent flowers!!! Then he had to always rub it in my face.'  
  
She was not even a little sorry that she almost killed him during their last session. Unfortunately, she hadn't killed him, and now she'd been reassigned to a new doctor. Well, she was going to give this new person as hard a time as she gave everyone else. No one understood her. She just wanted to help out poor, defenseless plants. Was that so bad?  
  
-  
  
'Thank goodness.' Harleen thought, 'no meeting with the Joker today. I just have to handle Poison Ivy. Great. I heard she tried to kill her last psychologist.'  
  
Yet again, Dr. Quinzel was having a bad day. One of her patients had died. Her kitchen lamp had started dripping water because her upstairs neighbors were washing the floors. Some of the older, and considerably less attractive men working here had decided today was the day they would all individually hit on her. Now, with all of these problems weighing her down, she had to meet with her patient to try and ease someone else's troubles. 'Best of luck,' she wished herself silently.  
  
"Miss Pamela Isley? How are you feeling today?"  
  
"Actually, it's 'doctor,' and I get the impression that I feel no better than you do. You look like you could use therapy more than me," she stated.  
  
"Maybe, but it's my job to help you. I'm sorry I'm so bogged down right now. I haven't even had time to unclutter my new apartment, let alone my mind," Harleen said.  
  
"You're new to Gotham?"  
  
"Oh no, I lived here when I was younger. But I've been gone for a long time."  
  
"That's a shame, Gotham is such an interesting place. Tell me, were you living out in the country? As nice as Gotham is, I really prefer the wide open spaces. . ."  
  
Dr. Quinzel smiled. "I can imagine. Nope, no rural country home, just another big city. Gotham doesn't have much in the way of advanced education facilities, so I went to live with some relatives while I was working on earning degrees."  
  
"Well, if you're somewhat new in town, maybe I should show you around the next time I'm out of here."  
  
"Is that really how it is? Arkham is just a brief stopover before you leave to add to your wrapsheet?" Harleen asked.  
  
"Well, it's like this, we all know we're a bunch of crazies. We're menaces, without morals and boundaries, and all of that. We go out for a little fun every now and then. I mostly concern myself with the welfare of plants. Then the inevitable happens. We get caught by Batman and sent back here. Arkham is a place to lay low, recuperate, relax a little. But it's hard to forget that you're here against your will. So we tend to leave a lot," Pamela explained.  
  
"Don't you ever think about getting better? Being able to live in Gotham, outside of Arkham, without Batman hunting you down?"  
  
"Sure, we all want that, but not the same way all you doctors do. For most of us, 'reform' just isn't in our vocabularies. I'd hate having to sit idly by and watch so many rare species of plants pass on into extinction without being able to do anything about it. I did that already. At least being an extemist gets some results."  
  
"Hmm. . ." Harleen had never considered that before. Suddenly she realized how very off-topic this discussion was. "I'm sorry! This is so unprofessional of me!"  
  
"It wasn't so bad having someone to talk to. I think your time is almost up, though," she informed the young doctor.  
  
"Wow, you're right. They give such short sessions. . . "  
  
"They don't want doctors having too much exposure with the extremists."  
  
"Well, until next time, Dr. Isley," she said, smiling.  
  
"Until next time, Dr. Quinzel."  
  
Just as Harleen started to leave, Pamela called out, "Oh, and doctor, try to hang on around here. We loose staff pretty often, I'd hate to see you go. It's so rare to find someone so, compassionate within these walls."  
  
Harleen was feeling better already.  
  
- 


	5. A Night On the Town

A/N: I'm back! To be honest, most of these next few updates were written quite a while ago, but I didn't like parts of it, so it just sat inside my computer, gathering dust. But recently a friend read my stuff and inspired me to get off my ass and post. So here you are! I'm finding as I'm writing this story that I keep jumping around the timeline. I haven't decided, but I may just have this be a bunch of snapshots throughout Harley's life. This is more or less an alternate universe, basically because I don't know what her life story is, I'm just making stuff up. Also, I obviously don't own any of these characters. I just like writing about them. Other than that, much thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate it that people are telling me what they think.  
  
"Hey Red, can we stop over at Joker's along the way?" Harley, in full clown costume inquired.  
  
"What is it you want now, Harley?" Poison Ivy asked.  
  
"Well, it's just that I want to make sure my babies are okay. See that they've been fed and all."  
  
"Harley, your 'babies' are hyenas. If Joker hasn't been feeding them they'll just bite his arm off. Hmmm, that doesn't sound so bad. Besides, we're in kind of a hurry."  
  
"Okaaay," she relented. "So what's the big plan for tonight, anyway?"  
  
"Well, I was thinking, we're low on cash, as always, so why not a diamond heist?"  
  
"Uhhh, Red, I think all the really nice diamonds in Gotham have been stolen by now. And if somebody was crazy enough to send a nice big rock our way, we would've heard about it."  
  
"Damn. I know. Actually, I don't have any official plans."  
  
"Then why the big rush?" the blonde jester cocked her head in curiosity.  
  
"Well, there's that big gala tonight, and if we want to look nice for it, shouldn't we buy ourselves something pretty?"  
  
"Or we could just steal stuff."  
  
"You know, that's a good idea. We are criminals after all," Ivy said with a sly grin.  
  
Ivy wasn't stupid. She was merely pretending. The whole conversation was an excuse to distract Harley. The poor girl had been so distraught after Joker's last breakout, when he'd left her behind. Harley begged Ivy to leave with her. Once Ivy heard about the upcoming charity event, she'd agreed. Now she was trying anything to keep Harley from running into Joker, and having her hopes dashed again.  
  
During his latest crime sprees, Joker had been seen with a woman among his henchmen. Since he still hadn't been caught, it wasn't clear what her status was, but it affected Harley all the same. Lately, Harley's method of coping was flat out denial.  
  
—  
  
Presently, the two young women were trying on dresses at a fancy, high- priced store. Not that the prices really had any relevance to the pair.  
  
"How do I look?" Harley asked her friend.  
  
"Stunning, Harl."  
  
In Ivy's opinion, Harley had been a little rough in dealing with the female clerk who, after recognizing the two, had tried to stop them. 'But what do I care about some insignificant mammal? And besides, no need to be too hard on Harley, she was under a lot of stress lately.' 


	6. Early memories

A/N: Before people start yelling at me that Ivy was OOC, I'd like to say that I was just trying to get from point A to point B in that segment, and to do that she had to act ditzy. Besides, I provided an explanation. I apologize in advance for how short this chapter is, but I'm posting in bulk, so rejoice!  
  
"Higher!! Push me higher!!!" the little girl squealed. Her blonde pigtails streaming behind her, she smiled in pure delight as she swung through the air.  
  
Nearby, a somewhat bored-looking clown clad in black and red stood blowing up balloons for small children. Just across the crowded park a large mallet stood next to a strength tester. Parents ran after their excited children, enjoying the fair just as much as their little ones.  
  
"Push me higher, Daddy!!" the little girl said again. This time the man behind pushing the swing heard her and reached out to grab the chain, jerking the swing to a sudden halt. "I've told you before, don't you ever call me that!!! Your 'daddy' ran out on you and your mother, he didn't want you. Now I pay your goddamned rent!! You call me by my name, or you call me 'Uncle', you got that?"  
  
"Yes," the little girl whimpered as the man took her by the arm and dragged her away from the fairgrounds. 


	7. Perception

A/N: Another short one. This is kind of why I said my story is becoming a bunch of snapshots. I'd rather not write such short chapters, but inspiration is being quite fickle. Hopefully, by posting all of these I'll make room for new ideas to come in. We'll see.  
  
Harley walked into Joker's office, noticing the just opened liquor bottle in his hand.  
  
"Don't drink, Mister J!!" she said. "You know how angry you get when you do!!"  
  
He turned his chair around to face her. Wrong. He had previously been drinking. From where she stood in the doorway she could now see the many other liquor bottles cluttering the floor.  
  
"But, Harl," Joker drawled, "I'm already angry!!" The last part came out as a roar as he lunged toward her, pinning her against the wall and choking her at the same time.  
  
It looked like once again Joker had had his plans ruined by Batman, then Harley showed up to promptly stick her foot in her mouth, and bear the brunt of his rage. After all her years of living with abusive alcoholics she knew far too well about hiding bruises and beatings. She remembered a promise to herself long ago after she got her diploma that she would never let her stepfather, or any man, treat her like that again. But when faced with the real world, with the cold, harshness of Gotham, she had fallen into the arms of the first man showing any hint of affection. They say abused women keep ending up with men who will abuse them. It's what they know as love.  
  
Harley just barely had time to ponder these thoughts as her vision blacked out, and she fell to the floor. 


End file.
